Chapter VII: Part 7

The multitude flocked together on the public square, in the centre of the town, their hollow eyes, pallid cheeks, and trembling limbs giving proof of the bitter pangs of hunger. One member alone had lost none of its energy; it was the tongue, which railed out violently against the consuls, who were accused of everything dishonorable and unjust. The boldest of the mob got as close as possible to the tribune, from which the magistrates were to harangue the people, in order that they might interrupt the speakers at their pleasure.

"Trust me, my friends," said a cobbler, with wan cheeks and a hungry air; "I have been obliged to give up mending shoes, and do you know why? It was because my children have eaten the last piece of leather that there was left in the house."

"Leather! why, that's food for a king," interrupted another speaker. "We eat things that I won't name! We must all die, miserably, of hunger, if the gates are not soon opened to the besiegers."

"Certainly we must!" cried a third. "If our consuls were as hungry as we are, they would soon stop talking about courage, and patriotic devotion, and heroic patience, and other beautiful things of the sort. However, they can say what they please, comrades, for they have plenty to eat and drink."

"Consul Boriso's red nose, and Grillo's big belly, have made me reflect very seriously for some time past," said a butcher. "We all look awfully, as if we were going to die of starvation to-day. A man can't live on liberty and patriotism; for we have not got cellars and wine vaults as well filled as our consuls."

"Barbarossa will not treat us as badly as the famine will," added another. "What is the use of freedom, if we are to perish with hunger?"

"It is all folly! Look, if you please, to what this freedom has brought us? If we taste its sweets ten days longer, we will all be in the grave-digger's hands."

"Hurrah for bread! Down with liberty!" screamed a thousand voices, as they caught sight of the consuls. Oberto ascended the tribune, and the yells and murmurs gradually subsided as they looked upon the old man, who, sad and dejected, gazed upon the crowd, and thought of the time when he used to speak to the Milanese, once so brave and valiant.

"Fellow-citizens," he said, "it is now a year that you have borne, with a courage and a patience worthy of your ancient renown, all the rigors of a siege. Barbarossa hems us in more closely every day. He desires the destruction of our free institutions; his aim is to humble our noble city, and reduce her citizens to vassalage."

A succession of savage yells interrupted the orator.

"Bread! Bread!" was cried on all sides.

"Open the gates! Down with the ranter!"

"Brothers, fellow-countrymen," resumed Oberto, "think of the glories of the past! Are you willing to wear the yoke of slavery?"

"Ah! our past glories. We are too wretched and humble now; it will do to talk of that when we are in prosperity. Give us food!"

"Fellow-citizens, do not torture me with your reproaches. I suffer from hunger, like yourselves; but I prefer death to the loss of that liberty which our ancestors have bequeathed to us."

"Bah! we are not such fools!" yelled the crowd. "Life is better than liberty!"

"The man is mad!" cried a voice; "he advises us to die of starvation!"

"He is mad! Yes, the gold paid him for his treason inspires his tongue! Comrades, let us go and open the gates!"

"Long live the Emperor! Hurrah for bread!"

Oberto turned, appealingly, towards his audience,--

"Fellow-citizens," he resumed, "your desires shall be gratified; you shall have all that you ask. To-day a delegation will leave Milan to treat for the surrender of the city; but the consequences must rest on your own shoulders; you will regret and bewail them. If the Lombard race is degenerate, if it courts its own slavery with eagerness, let its wishes be accomplished."

There was for a moment a profound silence. Oberto had spoken so sadly, his features expressed such bitter anguish, that the sympathy of many was awakened, but the ringleaders were firm.

"These are only fine words, comrades!" they said. "Barbarossa won't eat us; he may shave off a little of our liberty, and force us to pay the expenses of the war; he will demolish some of the forts, which we can build again when we please; all the rest will be as it was before!"

"Certainly! certainly!" cried many voices.

"Brothers, let us go to the municipal palace!" was yelled out; "let us see whether the consuls will keep their promise!"

"Yes, yes! let us go there at once!"

The mob rushed to the official residence and surrounded the building, until the delegation, preceded by a herald bearing a white flag, appeared upon the steps of the palace; and then, as though fearing some trickery, accompanied the commissioners to the city gates, where they watched them enter the enemy's camp. About two hours afterwards, the envoys returned with a message that, on the ensuing day, the Emperor would receive and consider the terms offered by the besieged. Still the news did not give universal satisfaction; for, although the rabble was delighted, the more respectable class of the citizens and the nobility winced under the disgrace. On the next day, four of the consuls repaired to the Imperial camp, where they met with a reception which foretold clearly the probable fate of their city. They were not admitted to the Emperor's quarters, but obliged to await his pleasure in the open air, exposed to all the severity of the weather. A violent storm burst forth meanwhile, accompanied by thunder and lightning and torrents of rain, and in a few moments the unfortunate consuls, drenched to the skin, and with their costly robes clinging to their persons, sought in vain a shelter, which was refused to them, amid the jeers and mockeries of the insolent lackeys.

They felt deeply humbled by this treatment, so different to what they had been accustomed to in their native city, where they had always occupied the first place in the public estimation. With bent heads and clothes soiled with water and mire, their faces expressive of sadness and resignation, these noble old men looked like statues--strangers to all the concerns of earth.

At last they were admitted to the council-hall, where Frederic was seated, surrounded by all the dignitaries of the Empire and the consuls of the allied towns. The Milanese threw themselves at the Emperor's feet, and then Gherardo Nigri laid before him the terms which they were commissioned to propose.

"Sire, illustrious princes, noble lords," he said, "the disasters of a protracted siege have at last inclined my countrymen to submission and peace. It is true that our formidable works would have enabled us for some time to resist the enemy's attacks--"

"Enough!" interrupted Barbarossa, abruptly. "State simply the terms of surrender, without any commentaries."

"I obey," replied Nigri, mortified that he should be obliged to submit tamely to his country's humiliation. "Our terms embrace everything which could possibly be demanded; even were the city taken by storm, your Majesty could exact little more. Milan will demolish her fortifications and build an Imperial citadel at her own expense; she will annul all her treaties of alliance; will admit your army within the walls; will give three hundred hostages to be held for three years; will recognize the supremacy of the German functionaries over all others; will acknowledge fealty to your Majesty, and will pay a tribute which shall be established at a future period."

The German nobles appeared satisfied, but the consuls of the allied towns shook their heads in token of their disapproval.

"Duke," said Frederic to Henry the Lion, "what think you of these propositions?"

"I think that nothing more can be asked for," replied Henry. "I confess, however, to my surprise, that the haughty city of Milan should have consented to draw them up."

The other nobles, as well as the bishops of the Empire, were of a similar opinion.

"However," observed the Bishop of Munster, "should His Majesty consider the chastisement as insufficient, I am opposed to the adoption of the enemy's conditions."

"It is well known," said the Pavian consul, "that the Milanese are always as willing to make as they are to break their engagements. Sire, reflect upon the treachery of the past, and do not allow them to renew it."

"Milan destroyed our city and led away her inhabitants as captives; let the same fate be inflicted upon her," urged the consul of Lodi.

"Unexampled confiscations have filled the Milanese treasury; it will not be difficult for the city to pay a heavy tribute," added the Consul of Novara. "When, after three years' absence, her hostages return, it will be easy to rebuild the fortifications which she now promises to demolish. She will again destroy the Imperial citadel, make new alliances, and put herself at the head of a new league against the Emperor and the Empire. The propositions now submitted to your Majesty offer an insufficient guaranty against a relapse into her former tyranny."

"So long as Milan exists, the safety and peace of Lombardy cannot be assured on a solid basis," said the consul of Vercelli. "Your Highness must not only perform an act of justice, but also protect the interests of the Italian cities. Not a stone should be left upon another in Milan!"

The nobles seemed to dissent; but Frederic, who had silently listened to the various arguments, gave no intimation of his own sentiments, whether they were in favor of moderation or anger.

"The opinions are divided," said he, at length; "my Lord Chancellor, be so kind as to give us your advice."

"It seems to me," answered Rinaldo, "that the grave outrages committed against your Imperial Majesty, can only be expiated by an unreserved submission. If Milan has decided to cease her resistance, let her yield to the Emperor unconditionally; it should depend upon his generosity whether the voice of pity or of vengeance is to prevail."

"We agree with you, my lord," said Frederic; "your words decide the question. It is not the besieged, but the victor, who should dictate the conditions. Whenever Milan shall have surrendered at discretion, we will make known our intentions."

"Our powers scarcely go so far," replied Nigri.

"You can inform your countrymen of our pleasure. Lose no time here, that your delay may not retard the destiny of your city."

_CHAPTER XXIX_.

_HUMILIATION_.

The Milanese had not doubted that their proposition would be at once accepted. Frederic's refusal consequently was a matter of surprise, and a majority of the most influential citizens felt confident that the people would continue an energetic defence, rather than unconditionally capitulate. They were mistaken. The Milanese refused to hear a word spoken in favor of further resistance.

When this information was communicated to the monarch, his satisfaction was unbounded, for he foresaw at once the results of his victory;--with Milan fell the last support of Alexander III.

Frederic had driven the unfortunate Pontiff from Rome; and although Genoa had offered him an asylum, this city could not hope to be able long to serve as a refuge to the fugitive head of the Church; for with the surrender of Milan, the resistance of the remaining cities of Lombardy became unavailing.

"The chief bulwark of Alexander's faction is levelled, and his defeat prepares a glorious future for you, Sire," said Rinaldo, entering the Imperial chamber. "Your wish of itself will suffice to drive Roland from Genoa. And where can he go then? Spain alone can support his supremacy so long as she is not struggling against the Moors. As to France, she cannot recognize this pretended pope, and England must follow her example. I see nothing for him but to seek the aid of the Saracens,--a strange alliance for His Holiness."

He was dreaming of the future; Frederic, on the other hand, was occupied only with the present. He desired that the formal surrender of Milan should take place in the style best calculated to strike the imagination. He wanted a tragedy to mark the fall of this queen of Lombardy, and he fixed the 6th of March as the date of the performance.

A platform, sufficiently vast to accommodate, at the same time, the Emperor and all his nobles, was erected outside of the camp. It was an amphitheatre, with fourteen tiers of seats for the nobility, whilst the Imperial throne towered above in splendid magnificence, an emblem of the supremacy of the sovereign. The platform was hung with scarlet cloth, and costly carpets were spread in the immediate vicinity of the monarch's stand, which was richly ornamented with garlands of flowers and decked with the pennons of the different princes. Behind was hoisted the Imperial banner.

On the appointed day the troops were drawn up in battle-array upon the plain, and the sunlight danced merrily upon the thousands of helmets and lances of polished steel. Nearer, the knights, in complete armor, sat motionless upon their chargers, like a wall of iron.

The Milanese advanced despondently and slowly in dense masses. At their head walked the consuls, barefooted, with halters around their necks, and clothed in sackcloth. The banners and escutcheons of the several municipalities were borne aloft on long lances. Not a breath of wind moved them, and they hung sadly against their staves, as though mourning their city's ruin. The keys of the town were carried on a cushion of blue velvet, ready to be offered, by the consuls, to the Emperor. The bugles at times rang out a melancholy wail of despair, and when they ceased, there went up a dirge of woe mingled with supplications for mercy, like those uttered by the people in moments of national calamity. It seemed as if Heaven were taking part in the sombre pageant, for dark clouds suddenly veiled the sun, and the air grew heavy and oppressive. The victors themselves were affected by the sight of this humiliation of their valiant enemies, and only among the troops of the Italian auxiliaries could be seen a sneer of irony and exultation.

The consuls halted in front of the platform, and a thrill of anxious expectation ran from rank to rank, until it reached the gates of Milan, whence the people still continued to issue. Insensibly the crowd stood still. The very boldest now were bowed to the earth. On all sides nothing met the eye but ashes and cords and penitential vestments. The trumpets were silent, and the solemn chant, _Kyrie Eleison_! _Kyrie Eleison_! was heard, as if the citizens would show that they expected no aid now but from God. From time to time a plaintive groan was answered by a thousand sighs of agony: it seemed the dying breath of a whole nation whose funeral knell was sounding.

There was a flourish of trumpets near the Imperial tent; Barbarossa was about to appear. The sound grew nearer and more distinct; and then the Emperor, surrounded by his nobles, rode up and dismounted about thirty paces from the throne. With haughty bearing and a look of pride upon his face, Frederic moved forward, followed by a splendid array of knights and princes. Far away in the distance stretched the serried ranks of the army, and the whole scene had that character of majestic grandeur so well suited to the sovereign who dictated the laws of the world.

Next to the monarch came the ambassadors of France and Spain and England, who, although nominally sent to the Court on business of State, seemed only there to share in Barbarossa's triumph as spectators of his greatness. Frederic mounted the throne, his nobles took seats in the amphitheatre, and at once a loud shout of glad applause rent the air. The meanest soldier of the army rejoiced, for he felt that the bright rays of the Imperial sun shone even upon him. He saw the Emperor above all; below him were the brilliant ranks of the nobles, at his feet the people of Milan, prostrate and humbled in the dust! The mind of Barbarossa was occupied with considerations of grave importance. His face beamed with the intoxication of success, for his soul exulted in his new honors. He saw all the nations, from Rome to Lubeck, with their millions of inhabitants, submissive to his sceptre. He thought of England and Spain, and France and Greece; and though there was much for him to do ere they could be overcome, the end which he had in view seemed bright with hope. His dream was to establish the supremacy of the Empire over all the thrones of Christendom. He was ambitious to be the successor of Charlemagne, not merely in name and dignity, but also in power. Plunged in his revery, he had forgotten even the contemplated demolition of rebellious Milan. The consuls had delivered up the keys of the city, already they had sworn their fealty, in the presence of four hundred nobles, when a tumultuous movement of the troops interrupted his meditations.

One wing of the army which occupied the open space between the encampment and the fortress, had changed front, and swinging round, opened a passage to the advancing population, which was mingling its groans and lamentations with the blasts of martial music and the shouts of triumph. With halters around their necks and cross in hand, covered with sackcloth and penitential vestments, they halted, successively, before the Imperial throne, and as each group laid down before it their banners and trumpets, they solemnly swore fealty, and then, slowly and sadly, took their way towards the narrow space reserved for them on the opposite side of the plain.

There was something really majestic in this simple demonstration of the Milanese; and as their bugles sounded their farewell notes, and their banners fell upon the ground, one would have imagined that a fraction of the people was breathing its last sigh. Even the conquerors were moved to pity, and although those nearest to the sovereign prudently dissembled their emotion, the tears coursed down the bronzed cheeks of more than one rude soldier. Barbarossa alone was stern and pitiless, and his remorseless glance, bent upon the vanquished foe, seemed to indicate that he considered the punishment a feeble atonement for the outrage offered to his Imperial majesty.

The plain was now covered with a dense crowd. An immense chariot, drawn by five white oxen, advanced slowly, bearing the celebrated statue of St. Ambrose, Milan's patron saint, and an immense pole from which fluttered the city's flag and those of all the other towns of the confederation. The chariot was hung with scarlet cloth, the drivers were dressed in scarlet, and twelve warriors, with casques and corslets of polished steel, covered with robes of purple, formed an escort of honor.

This chariot, which had been built by the Archbishop Ariberti, played an important part in times of war, and was looked upon almost as the _Palladium_ of the City of Milan.

During battle its banner towered above the combatants, and served as a rallying-point; and it was the duty of the citizens to defend it to the death,--it was the symbol, the soul of the free City, the glory and honor of Milan.

It halted in front of the throne, and the guards descended. A death-like silence reigned, and glances of tearful anger were turned towards Barbarossa. Suddenly an ominous crash was heard, the flag-staff had broken, and its fall upset the car. The image of St. Ambrose, the flags and banners, had rolled in the dust; and the deep bell of the distant cathedral tolled out mournfully, as these symbols, once so brilliant, lay stretched upon the ground, in striking analogy to the fate which awaited Milan.

The people broke oat in groans of rage; some tore their hair in very desperation, while others, yielding to the weight of their emotion, were silent and bit their lips with grief and mortification. Still the Emperor remained unmoved, although there were tears on the energetic face of Henry the Lion, and his features told of his deep sympathy with the humiliation of the illustrious city.

The Count of Biandrate, formerly an ally of the Milanese, but now a stanch partisan of the Emperor, advanced, and kneeling before the sovereign, craved his mercy.

"I implore your Majesty," he said, "to have pity upon this people, which, humbled in the dust, prays for your forgiveness. All the greatness, all the power of the proud city is at your feet. Do not regard them as criminals; look upon them as your children who knew not how to discriminate between good and evil; grant them their lives, and let compassion moderate your justice!"

"Experience has already taught us the sad results of too much clemency," answered Barbarossa. "Milan has despised and rejected our favors, and has always remained the centre of all the seditions, the directress of all the plots against the Empire and its sovereign."

"Nevertheless, I still supplicate your Majesty," continued the Count, seeing that the Emperor's hesitation displeased the nobles, "not to break the bruised reed. Would the fame of your Highness, or of the German nation be increased, if, upon a sign from you, this mighty city, this assemblage of warriors, became the object of a chastisement unequalled in the annals of Christendom?"

The nobles audibly gave signs of approbation, and Frederic was unable to resist. Too much violence might produce unpleasant consequences; he understood the position and moderated his sentence.

"I will treat them with all the forbearance which is compatible with justice," he said. "All have merited death; we will grant their lives to all!"

"God be praised!" exclaimed the nobles.

But the Italians murmured. They wished nothing less than the destruction of the city; and several of the consuls of the allied towns stepped forward, and expressed their views with a violence and animosity which, inwardly, pleased the Emperor.

"Sire," said the Pavian consul, "Milan destroyed Como and Lodi, it is but justice that she should share their fate."

"Recollect, Sire," added the consul of Vercelli, "that you owe support to those who always remained faithful to your cause. So long as Milan exists, neither peace nor order is possible. You have conquered the she-wolf; your trusty sword has forced her to grovel in the dust; but that is not enough; she must be destroyed! A few years hence, and Milan, always thirsting for her neighbors' blood, will again extend her tyranny over all Lombardy. We ask for simple justice. Sire, give us justice!"

"You have every right to demand our protection," replied Frederic, "and you shall have it. We will never permit our faithful subjects to be oppressed. Milan shall be deserted, and within fifteen days all its inhabitants must leave the city, and be divided into four detachments separated from each other by a distance of at least two miles."

The monarch arose and gave the signal that the ceremony was finished.--He mounted his charger, and, surrounded by his nobles, trampling under their horses' hoofs the banners which were spread out upon the ground,--returned to his camp amid the loud strains of martial music, while the Milanese wept sadly over the destruction of their much loved city.

_CHAPTER XXX_.

_AMUSEMENTS_.

On the 26th of March, 1162, the victorious Emperor made his triumphal entry into the conquered city, not through the gates, but over the dismantled fortifications. Thence he proceeded with his Court to Pavia, where he celebrated his successes with extraordinary pomp, and received the envoys from the cities allied to Milan, who, despairing of preserving their liberty, came to tender their submission. Severe terms were imposed upon Brescia, Placenza, Imola, Faenza, and Bologna, while immense concessions were granted to those towns which had remained faithful to their allegiance. Barbarossa also opened negotiations with the powerful maritime republics of Genoa and Pisa, to which were secured, by a secret treaty, portions of Sicily and Catania, until a more equal division could be made of the rich treasures of the King of Naples.

In this way Frederic followed up his designs, even while he seemed most absorbed in his pleasures.

Pavia surpassed herself in her efforts to entertain her illustrious guest. The different corporations took turns in the amusements; but he always found time to see everything, and nothing escaped his attention or passed without praise. Accompanied by a brilliant retinue, often with the Empress at his side, he rode through the streets decked with flags, winning golden opinions from all, for he conversed freely with the humblest citizen, and never dismissed unaided any one who came to ask his pity.

Frederic possessed the great talent of nearly all those who aspire to extended dominion; he knew how to conciliate popular sympathy.

After a succession of jousts and tournaments, balls and joyous galas, it was decided to produce the spectacle of the capture of a fort defended by women and young girls. A square redoubt was built, flanked with small towers and balconies, and with walls of variegated stuffs, of velvets, purple, and ermine. The actors were clothed in rich tissues, decorated with gold and diamonds; and in place of helmets they wore crowns of filigree-work or costly diadems. In lieu of deadly weapons, they carried perfumed rose-water and amber, with which they drenched the assailants. The variety of colors, the splendid materials which formed the fortress, and the grace and beauty of its defenders, made up a charming picture.

Before the assault, a new pageant advanced to the sound of joyous music; it was the corporation of bakers, carrying before them on a car decked with flags and ribbons, an immense cake, a masterpiece of their art. They marched around the fortress singing, and then deposited their offering near a tall pole, announcing that it was to be the prize of the person who could pull down the banner fastened to the summit of the mast.

Next came the corporation of the butchers, with an immense hog roasted whole; they were followed by the game dealers and the other trade societies, all with costly presents. The vast cask of wine offered by the tavern-keepers caused especial pleasure to the Germans.

Meanwhile the young men prepared for the assault; surrounding the mimic fortress, they were met with a shower of dates, pears, apples, nutmegs, and cakes. Although it was only in sport, there was a good deal of excitement, as is the case in the beginning of every contest, and the cheeks of the fair defenders flushed, and their eyes flashed as their enemies drew near.

The podesta raised his baton, and, to the sounds of a flute, the strife began. On all sides a cloud of dates, quinces, and sweetmeats was hurled against the fortress; the walls shook, and a noisy music drowned the cries of the wounded. A shower of rose-water filled the air with rich perfume, whilst a crowd of boys eagerly picked up the dainty missiles.

One young man, particularly, displayed great energy during the assault. Despite the rose-water and the amber, he reached the castle-door, and forcing the passage with a rose-covered wand, penetrated to the heart of the place. His courage excited the emulation and the envy of all; but his triumph was short-lived, and he was soon expelled by the besieged. He came out, wrapped from head to foot in a sheet smeared with honey, and when at last he had succeeded in disentangling himself, a swarm of flies covered him, to the great amusement of the spectators. Soon the besiegers declared that the citadel was impregnable, and then a lady of lofty bearing appeared upon one of the balconies, and announced the terms of capitulation.

"You have learned, valiant warriors," she said, "that violence can accomplish nothing against us women. It is true that you are our masters, but we know how to repay with usury, anything like cruelty or ill-treatment. Only show us kindness and courtesy, and you can have what you will. By virtue of my office, as governor of this castle, I think it my duty to inform you that we have kept it as long as it so pleased us, and now we surrender of our own free will, in order to set you an example of moderation."

This harangue was received with laughter and shouts of applause, and then the music announced that the ascent of the pole would begin.

The Knight of Groswin, who was among the lookers-on, took no pains to conceal his discontent; for the assault of the mimic fortress, far from amusing him, had only provoked his anger, and it was evident that he would have sought more congenial amusements, had he not been detained there on duty.

"What a stupid game! what a silly idea!" he said, as he glanced towards the balcony, where Frederic and his courtiers were laughing and talking with animation.

"I cannot understand the Emperor," he resumed; "he chatters like an old woman, and laughs as though he really were amused by these mummeries. But, after all, it may only be a mask, the better to deceive these Italians.--I wonder how he will look when he hears my message?"

Goswin left the crowd, and entering the palace, sought the Imperial hall.

"That fellow climbs well," said Barbarossa to the Pisan envoy; "see how tightly he clings to the slippery pole; I advise you to recruit him for your fleet."

"We have plenty of sailors still more active than he Sire. The approaching hostilities against Naples will show you of what our men are capable."

"Have the deputies yet started for Pisa and Genoa?" inquired the Emperor.

"They went yesterday, Sire," replied the Pisan.

"We will take advantage of the present opportunity, and no longer delay the punishment which the unfriendly behavior of the Neapolitan king so well merits. I am confident that the opposition of Venice is only prolonged by William's assistance."

"Perhaps it would be well to curb the power of the Venetians a little?" remarked a Genoese. "It is not an easy matter, but your Majesty can be assured of our hearty co-operation."

Frederic received this overture with evident satisfaction; the mutual jealousy of the Italian cities served his own projects admirably.

"What tidings does the Knight Goswin bring us?" asked the Emperor, as the noble entered.

"A communication which your Highness----"

"Is it very important?" said Frederic, hastily, fearing lest the imprudent soldier might reveal, to indiscreet ears, things which ought not to be known to every one. "Excuse me for a moment, my lords," and he withdrew on one side with Goswin.

"Well, what is it?" he asked.

"Count Rechberg has returned to Lombardy."

"Is that all? there was scarcely need to take the trouble of telling me anything so unimportant."

"It was the abbot who announced it to me; and I was to communicate it to you," replied Goswin.

"The abbot!--What abbot?" asked the Emperor.

"The one who came to your camp before Milan, last summer."

"The Abbot Conrad, you mean?"

"Perhaps that is his name; he awaits you in the palace."

"What motive can bring him?" inquired Frederic, greatly surprised.

"I can tell you, Sire: the abbot comes in the name of the Archbishop of Salzburg, who is now near Pavia with some other prelates."

"What is this you say?" cried Barbarossa; "the Archbishop of Salzburg in Italy, near us! How stupid in you, Goswin, to announce in this frivolous manner a matter of such great importance!"

"I supposed that Count Erwin had, at least, as much importance in your eyes, as the Bishop of Salzburg," answered the knight.

"But why does he remain outside of the town? What prelates are with him?"

"You can ask him yourself, Sire."

Frederic was going out, when the Podesta of Pavia entered.

"One word only, Sire," he said.

"Well, but speak quickly; the Metropolitan of Salzburg, accompanied by several other prelates, has just arrived to offer us their congratulations."

The crafty Pavian understood better than Goswin the bearings of this visit.

"It is another victory, Sire, a new triumph for your ideas, more important, perhaps, even than that which you achieved at Milan. I merely wished to inquire whether the two hundred silver marks, which Pavia has laid at your feet, will be sufficient?--we are quite ready to offer more, should it be required."

"The sum is sufficient, Count; many thanks!"

"I also desire to remark, that the destruction of Tortona is absolutely necessary to the security of your faithful Pavia. Your magnanimous generosity was satisfied with the demolition of the fortifications; but, Sire, the work is only half done."

"Pavia has nothing to fear from an open place."

"Walls are soon rebuilt, Sire, and you know the unfriendly feelings of Tortona towards us. We Pavians are ready to make any sacrifice, if you will allow us to destroy that city."

Frederic, without answering, left the room abruptly.

"Very well!" said the Podesta, rubbing his hands gayly; "that means, do as you please: I will not do it myself, but I will not forbid it."

Goswin had heard all the conversation, and even his intelligence took in all the immorality of the scene.

"This really is a piece of knavery!" he said, as he followed his master. "Tortona displeases Pavia; Pavia offers money to the Emperor, and Tortona will be destroyed! Now I call this proceeding neither honorable, imperial, nor even Christian."

The monarch hastened to the ancient palace of the Lombard kings, in which he had established his quarters. Scarcely had he arrived, when Pope Victor requested an audience. It was refused, but the Abbot Conrad, on the contrary, was immediately admitted in company with the Chancellor Rinaldo.

"You are right welcome to Pavia, my lord Abbot," said Barbarossa, "and the more so, because you announce the visit of our worthy Metropolitan of Salzburg."

At these words he glanced towards Dassel, whose impassive face, as the Emperor well knew, boded no good.

"The prelate offers his respectful salutations, and begs your Majesty to appoint a time for an audience, in some other city than Pavia," said the Abbot Conrad.

"In some other city! And for what reason?"

"Because it is not seemly for the Archbishop to enter the city where Victor holds his court. His duty forbids him to have any intercourse with the Antipope, and a sojourn in Pavia might be construed as a recognition of his claims," replied the abbot.

Rinaldo made a sign to Barbarossa, who listened without any evidence of what was passing in his mind. Eberhard's reputation in Italy was wide-spread, and this refusal to hold any communication with the Antipope was naturally calculated to displease the Emperor.

"We can fully appreciate the Archbishop's prudence," remarked Frederic, after a moment's reflection; "where is he at present?"

"In the Abbey of St. Martin."

"At St. Martin, in that paltry cloister which has scarcely wherewithal to feed its own monks! We will direct an immediate change, more in harmony with Eberhard's dignity and position. What prelates has he with him?"

"The Bishop of Brixen, the Prior of Reichersburg, and several abbots," answered Conrad.

"We are highly pleased at the arrival of these worthy prelates. Be prepared, my lord Abbot, to return here soon with some of my courtiers, whom we will send forward to meet the Archbishop."

Scarcely had Conrad left the room when Victor entered; mortification and anger were depicted on his countenance.

"I crave your pardon," he said, "if my visit here be inopportune, but I have been grievously insulted, and I am well aware that your Majesty will not leave unpunished those who outrage the legitimate Pope."

"We are seriously busy in State affairs," replied Frederic, in a tone of ill-humor; "however, relate at once your complaint."

"Eberhard of Salzburg refuses to obey me, and rather than contaminate himself by contact with the schismatic Victor, has left Pavia. This public degradation is insupportable; the Chief of the Church, duly appointed and confirmed by the Emperor, must not be thus vilified before all Christendom; such an indignity deserves punishment."

"I am extremely grieved by this affront; what would you advise me to do?" asked the Emperor.

"Chastise the Archbishop's pride, Sire; and oblige him to acknowledge the lawful Pope."

"Oblige him! how does your wisdom interpret this?"

"If he will not obey willingly, let him be made to obey by force:--The only man whose energy sustains the schism in the German Church is in your power."

"You counsel, then, his arrest and close confinement?"

"It will scarcely be necessary to proceed to such extreme measures. The fear which your Majesty inspires is quite enough of itself to make him bend the knee."

"Men of Eberhard's character are not easily influenced by fear; that sentiment is unknown to them. A much more effective mode of persuasion would be a visit from you to the Archbishop."

"What say you!--I humble myself thus!--I solicit the friendship of a rebellious prelate!"

"Perhaps we may desire you to take this step. If this alone can put an end to the present difficulty, it must be done."

Victor was thunderstruck at these words. Although his relations with the Emperor were such that he had long lost all self-consideration or respect; even his spirit revolted at the baseness of the step which he was advised to take.

"Your Majesty can never force me to this act of degradation," he said; "I would rather resign the tiara."

"I have said perhaps:--We must be prepared for everything. But allow me to return to this business, which is pressing."

Victor protested his ready obedience, and bowed himself out of the room.

"He will have to come to it," said Frederic, turning towards Dassel, who had kept to one side. "You will remember," he added, "that you have heard nothing of our conversation with the Pope."

"Sire, it is impossible; I must speak to you of it."

"To what end?"

"To what end! Can anything be of greater importance than to ward off the blow which Eberhard is about to strike against you and the Holy Father? Thank Heaven, circumstances will permit you to surmount the difficulty."

"Explain yourself."

"You expect, in the course of the next two days, the arrival of the relics of the three Magi which are to be borne here from Milan in solemn procession. The respect which you will show will prove to all in Pavia the ardor of your religious faith, and to do them still greater honor, you will send the Pope in advance to meet them. Victor can start early to-morrow, and in this way you can remove the purulent infection which is so offensive to the too delicate Archbishop."

"But will not Victor return with the relics?"

"He must not return; an order from your Majesty will take him to Lodi, where he will wait until he is wanted."

"Excellent!"

"Eberhard is in earnest, and your Majesty must stint nothing in the evidences of respect shown to him. The people will admire your condescension. Let your embassy be as brilliant as possible. Count Haro should be one of your envoys; he possesses a magnificent castle between Pavia and St. Martin. He can conduct the prelates thither, and your Majesty can then encounter this Goliah of the South-German Episcopacy."

"Bravo!" cried Frederic; "I approve of everything: Act at once."

_CHAPTER XXXI_.

_AT RIVOLI_.

An express was immediately dispatched to Rivoli, bearing to Count Haro the order to get all the apartments of his castle in readiness. Dassel himself sent forward a train of mules, bearing costly carpets, silver candlesticks, and massive plate--everything, in short, which was needed to offer a most sumptuous hospitality. The castle, usually so quiet, assumed an air of gayety, and the steward rushed in every direction, arranging and disarranging, ordering, scolding, and hastening on the preparations.

The chaplain of the castle alone remained calm, in the midst of the general confusion. Evidently, some unusual occurrence condemned him to idleness, for his callous hands showed that his occupations were not purely intellectual. The servants generally abandoned to him everything which they refused to do, and his appearance was rather that of a stable-boy than an ecclesiastic. Although he had received but a limited education, Rainulph felt the impropriety of such behavior, and often complained that his spiritual functions were not regarded with becoming reverence. But his murmurs rarely reached the Count's ear, and when they did, little attention was paid to them; for Haro, always at Court, knew too well the Emperor's course towards the Pope to be respectful to his own chaplain.

"Since the Pope," he told him, "obeys Frederic's orders, you must make up your mind to do as I tell you."

But the chaplain of Rivoli was suddenly aroused from his inactivity by a shrill voice.

"How is this, sluggard?" cried the angry steward; "the stable is not swept yet, everything is out of place, and the horses of His Majesty and the Court will be here directly!"

"I don't care," answered Rainulph; "the manure may stay there; I shall not touch it!"

The steward could not believe his ears. The conduct of the formerly submissive chaplain seemed inexplicable.

"Are you mad? Have you not done that work a hundred times?"

"Yes, and more too! You have made me do the most menial drudgery, and I have complained in vain; but it is different to-day."

"I suppose that you hardly intend to appeal to the Emperor?" sneered the other. "You will make a fine thing of it. Don't you know, fool, that the Pope and the bishops are as much the servants of the Emperor as the chaplains are of the Castellan? I tell you it is the custom!"

"It is a bad custom, an impious custom! Priests were not ordained to clean out stables, but to discharge their sacred calling."

"Ah! what a noble transport! Wait a minute, till I teach you your duty!"

At that moment a horseman dashed up, and announced that the prelates were close at hand. The steward raised his eyes to heaven, tore his hair, ordered the chaplain to be locked up in one of the towers, and, entering the castle, mounted upon a turret.

"May all the saints aid me!" he cried, as he saw the valley shining with helmets, and lances, and armor. "What! it is a whole army!--an army of knights and counts! How am I to lodge all these in Rivoli, where there is scarcely room for twenty lords with their retinues? It is impossible; they cannot all come here! They must be blind not to see that the castle cannot hold them, even were I to stow some of the knights in the barns and the cellars. No! it is not possible! But let us see: they are at the foot of the hill. Ah! the men-at-arms halt, and are letting the prelates take the lead. Quick, Romano, quick! put on your finest suit, the newest you have. To-day you must be marshal of the palace."

Whilst the steward was donning his rich livery, and taking his long silver-headed staff of office, Eberhard of Salzburg slowly ascended the hill. The old man was tall in stature, of energetic strongly-marked features, whose expression was by no means softened by a pair of piercing eyes. His voice was deep and sonorous, and all his words carefully selected. He rode easily, in spite of his advanced age, which had neither broken down his vigorous physical strength nor weakened his intellect. His suite and the costume which he himself wore indicated his high rank. His surcoat was bordered with ermine, and he wore around his neck a heavy gold chain, to which hung a pastoral cross enriched with jewels. The saddle of his courser was ornamented with rings and buckles of silver.

By his side were Herman, Bishop of Brixen; and Gerhoh, prior of Reichersberg; two noble dignitaries of grave and serious demeanor. Behind them were several abbots, and last, the escort of honor, sent by Frederic, in which could be remarked Count Erwin of Rechberg.

Count Haro hastened to the court-yard to welcome the prelate, as he dismounted; a crowd of servants stood ready to take care of the horses, and soon the noble hosts were introduced to the castle.

Eberhard's own followers remained at the foot of the hill, where they at once pitched their tents, as was the custom of the time. About two hundred soldiers had accompanied the Archbishop, from Salzburg, and formed an escort sufficiently numerous to hold in awe the most desperate highwaymen.

The prelate knew that a display of strength always imposes upon savage and uneducated men, and, although living, in his own house, with almost monastic simplicity, he never neglected on all public occasions to appear with as much pomp as possible.

Offering his fatigue as an excuse, he partook but lightly of the banquet, and soon retired to his own apartment; the other ecclesiastics shortly followed his example; but Haro and the laymen, who were his guests, remained at table until nightfall.

The pleasures of the feast offered little attraction to Erwin, and he found still less pleasure in listening to the recital of Barbarossa's victory over the Milanese, which he had already heard recounted a hundred times, in all its most minute details.

Taking advantage of a beautiful spring evening, he left the hall and the castle, and descending the hill, soon found himself in the little park. He had scarcely taken his seat and begun to reflect that in spite of the Metropolitan's intercession, his Imperial godfather might, possibly, send him back again to Suabia, when a long whistle attracted his attention. A little while after, the sound was repeated, and replied to from the castle; then he heard footsteps, and saw two men approach each other and converse in a low tone, at a short distance from him.

The occurrence appeared mysterious and aroused his curiosity, the more so, that these night-walkers wore the short cloaks and high hats of the Italian nobility, which almost concealed the face. Rechberg listened attentively, but could not make out their conversation. He only could catch the names of "Pope, Emperor, France, and Eberhard," because they were uttered with much energy. To his great surprise, he suddenly heard his own name pronounced.

"Count Erwin of Rechberg!--It is not possible!"

The other added a few words in a smothered voice, to which a curse was the reply. Then they separated, one of them moving towards the castle. Erwin determined to accost the Unknown. The stranger with surprise halted and laid his hand on his sword. Erwin looked at him attentively, but could distinguish nothing, except a pair of flashing eyes and a thick black beard.

"It is not my profession to interfere with honest people," he said, "but as you made use of my name, just now, I have the right to ask who you are and with what you reproach me."

"Who I am is of no importance to you, Count," answered the stranger; "and if you follow the teachings of your own conscience, I can reproach you with nothing."

"What do you mean? For whom do you take me?"

"For a frivolous youth, who forgets his promises too easily."

"Villain! withdraw this insult at once, or ----" And he put his hand to his sword-hilt.

"I have no intention of offending you," replied the Unknown, coolly; "do not draw your sword: not that I fear it, but because I have no wish to fight with a gentleman whose enemy I am not."

"Ah! and yet you do not hesitate to calumniate me!"

"Unpleasant truths are not calumnies. It is positive that you have broken your word, in a circumstance where it should have been held sacred."

"The proof! Quickly--or, upon my honor, you shall not repeat the insult a third time!"

"Do you know the Lady of Castellamare?

"Yes."

"You are betrothed to her."

"I am; what then?" asked Rechberg.

"Are you not restored to Barbarossa's favor on condition of marrying another person?"

"I--forget Hermengarde!--such an assertion does not even merit a denial."

"That is strange," said the Unknown, shaking his head.

"What else is there besides?"

"The Emperor banished you on account of your projects of marriage, and yet you are back again."

"You conclude therefore that I have purchased the Imperial favor by the violation of my word?"

"Such is my conviction."

"Why suppose evil rather than good? Would it not have been more natural to think that Rechberg had profited by Eberhard's arrival to obtain pardon through his intercession? That would have been reasonable and just, and you would have guessed the correct motive of my return."

"Are you not invited to the Court?"

"I am not."

"If such is the case, your fidelity has been severely tested. Do not be uneasy about your reconciliation with Barbarossa; you come at an opportune moment. He needs you, or, rather, he would like to use you, to accomplish an evil action. Still I hope that you will not allow yourself to be led away."

"Will you explain your meaning?"

"You will learn it soon enough. Misfortune travels quickly. I merely tell you: be faithful to your betrothed, to your wife; do not be seduced or dazzled by ambition. Farewell!----"

"One moment! Cease this equivocation and tell me plainly what all this means."

"Still, you must be satisfied with what I have made known to you: you are forewarned; that is all that is necessary. Do not delay me, for my time is precious; we will meet again in Pavia."

The stranger disappeared, and Rechberg, full of uneasiness, returned to the castle.

_CHAPTER XXXII_.

_ALEXANDER'S AMBASSADOR_.

On the very next morning Erwin could judge of the truth of at least some of the stranger's assertions. Frederic arrived early, and contrary to the expectations of all, received our hero with open arms and every token of sincere affection. Rechberg himself was surprised, for no allusion whatever was made to the previous misunderstanding.

"You are welcome, Erwin," said the monarch, when Eberhard presented the young man; "I heard of your arrival in Pavia, and was pleased to think that you could accompany us to France."

He pressed the Count's hand with so much warmth, that the latter could no longer doubt that his sovereign had some ulterior designs in view. The Chancellor also was most amiable, and during their return to Pavia, which took place the same day, rode constantly by his side, speaking of the contemplated council which was to be held in France, at which the French and English monarchs were to be present. He took such pains to vaunt the riches and elegance of the French ambassador, Count Henry of Champagne, whose sister had just married King Louis, that Rechberg was completely puzzled, and resolved to be more than ever on his guard.

A magnificent reception had been prepared by Frederic's order in Pavia. Victor and his partisans had left the city, and everything which could possibly remind any one of the Antipope, had disappeared, even to the arms which hung over his palace.

The zealous Omnibonus, Bishop of Verona, a stanch adherent of Alexander, and the uncompromising opponent of Victor, received the Metropolitan at the entrance of the cathedral. Barbarossa had determined that the Archbishop should have no pretext for discontent, and that he himself would appear free from all party spirit, and only desirous of assuring the peace and unity of the Church. The pious Eberhard, whom nothing could fatigue, was delighted with the state of things. As it appeared, Pope Alexander, previous to his departure from Genoa, had written to him to request his mediation with the Emperor, and the prelate hoped to experience little difficulty in influencing him to a kind and moderate course of action, particularly, as, during their journey from Rivoli, Frederic had acknowledged, in a flattering manner, the personal merits of the Pope. Eberhard, with Bishop Herman of Brixen, immediately waited upon the Emperor, and were at once received. As soon as Alexander's name was mentioned, a look of anger crossed the monarch's face and his eyes flashed. It was gone in an instant, but the Archbishop had perceived it, and although Frederic listened calmly to his explanations, he feared to encounter an inveterate and irreconcilable hatred. Judging that the Pope's letter would best define his position, he laid it before the Emperor.

"The explanations offered by the Cardinal Roland are scarcely in accordance with the efforts made by him to prolong the resistance of the Milanese," remarked Barbarossa. "We hold positive proofs that he encouraged the rebels, by presenting the revolt to them under the appearance of a sacred war. You will acknowledge yourself, as a holy and honorable ecclesiastic, that this is not the action of a loyal subject."

"Sire," replied Eberhard, "Pope Alexander never either encouraged or approved of the insurrection. The documents which your Majesty holds are forgeries and valueless, as the work of people little worthy of credit, who seek to advance their own selfish ends by sowing discord in the Church. What is true, is, that Alexander thanked the Milanese for their loyalty to him, and their opposition to the Antipope; in this, he only did his duty."

"It is a sad business!" said Frederic, with a sigh. "Suppose, for example, that we became the protector of Victor, and that the people were excited to disobey him, the rebellion would be nothing but a crusade against the schismatic Frederic of Hohenstauffen--"